


All Day Dream

by fictionallemons



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Books, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Boys Kissing, Consent, Crying, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hotel Sex, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kayaking, Librarian Jensen, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Summer, Thunderstorms, Writer Jared Padalecki, maine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionallemons/pseuds/fictionallemons
Summary: Jared moves to Cross Creek, Maine, to live with his aging father. He doesn't expect to meet Jensen, a standoffish librarian with beautiful eyes.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 52
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from All Our Own by Radio Company. I'm terrible at titles.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!

Jared has lived in Cross Creek for thirty-six hours before the cravings become too overwhelming to ignore. He tries to sate them with his dad's offering of pitch black coffee, but that just isn't doing it for him, so on his second morning as an official Cross Creek resident he pulls on his sneakers and runs the mile and half from his dad's little one story ranch house to the coffee shop across from the village green.

He's barely broken a sweat when he arrives. It's early June, but Saturday so there are a couple of people in line as Jared stretches a little, glancing around the cute, eclectic shop. It reminds him a little of his neighborhood place back home, and he smiles. Austin's not home anymore, but then again, maybe it'll always be.

"Morning." A dark haired woman with a husky voice greets him when it's his turn at the counter.

"Good morning." He smiles at her. "Please tell me you do a chai latte. I need one. Bad." He deepens his smile, just in case dimples will produce the chai faster.

The women smiles back. "You're in luck, stranger. We make our own blend, and it's awesome."

"That is the best news I've heard all day."

"I'll take that with a grain of salt, seeing that it's seven thirty in the morning," she says dryly. "Three fifty."

"Still." He winks and hands her some crumpled dollars from his pocket. "And if your chai is as good as advertised, I'm not going to be a stranger for long. Name's Jared. I just moved here."

"Nice to meet you, Jared. I'm Maddie. Welcome to Cross Creek. Let me grab your chai, okay?"

Jared nods and glances around the place. It's cosy and colorful, with a little area in the corner set up with a kids table and chairs and coloring books and a basket of broken crayons. There are bookshelves with tattered paperbacks and hardcovers with obscure titles probably picked up from an estate sale long ago. One customer, sitting alone at the table near the window that overlooks Main Street, catches Jared's eye.

Jared notices his glasses first. They're wire rimmed and rectangular and they don't seem to go with the guy's hair, which is a little messy, short and golden brown. He's tall and kind of swamps the single cafe table as he hunches over a mug and a book. The oxford shirt he wears stretches across his shoulders and ends tucked into a pair of khakis. His brown leather lace-up shoes tip Jared off that this isn't a guy who works at the ski resort or on the road crew.

Then the guy looks up from his book and catches Jared's gaze with his own and Jared just kind of—gasps, internally maybe, because the guy's got beach-glass green eyes that he wasn't expecting behind those wire rimmed glasses. Even though his mouth is turned down into a frown as he takes Jared in, it doesn't detract at all from the lushness of said mouth.

Jared's new in town, and he doesn't know if this guy is a regular or here on vacation or gay or straight or asexual or what, but he knows if he doesn't talk to him, he'll regret it forever. "Hey."

The guy's eyes widen a fraction and he mutters, "Hey," back, which Jared counts as a win.

"Here's your change, and your chai latte," Maddie says. 

Jared turns around, dumps the change in the tip jar and takes the cup with a grateful smile. "You're a lifesaver."

"Just doing my job," Maddie remarks.

Jared swings back toward the guy with the glasses, thinking maybe he could extend their conversation beyond a single word, but when he turns around, he's gone, leaving behind an empty mug. Jared can't help the stab of disappointment.

"Hey, Maddie. Since we're going to be such good friends, maybe you could give me some intel?"

"Anything specific, or dealer's choice?"

"Specifically, do you know that guy who was sitting over there?"

Maddie glances over to the window table. "Jensen? What about him?"

Jared's full of questions. Is Jensen single? Gay? Dog lover? But he settles on, "Is he local?"

"Near enough. Moved here a few years ago. Why?"

Jared remembers his dad telling him that Mainers don't really accept anyone new until they've been there for decades, at least.

"Just wondering. Thanks for the chai. It's really good."

"Told you." Maddie smiles. "See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

The next day Jared times his run slightly earlier, and arrives at the coffee shop just as Jensen's sitting down with his mug and his book. It's a different book from yesterday, but the glasses are the same. His outfit is basically the same as well—button down, khakis, brown shoes. He looks like some kind of office worker, except for his shoulders, broad and strong-looking, and his forearms, exposed to the elbow with his sleeves rolled up. It's warmer today than yesterday and Jared eyes the extra bit of skin with appreciation.

"Hey, Maddie," Jared says easily, pretending that his pulse is racing from the jog over and not the presence of the beautiful man.

"Hey, Jared. The usual?" She smiles mischievously.

"You know it," he replies, pleased to have someone to banter with three days into his stay in Cross Creek. In Austin, he had friends on every block for a mile surrounding his apartment. He hasn't been gone long enough to miss everyone. Not quite. He could still be on vacation, just visiting his dad, instead of living with him for the foreseeable future. But it still feels good to have a usual order, and the possible start of a friendship.

Speaking of making friends, he pays Maddie and then turns around, leaning back on the counter while she gets the drink. The cafe is a little busier today than yesterday, and there's a toddler at the kids' table scribbling on a piece of paper while his mom sips coffee with a friend nearby. Jared takes it all in, but his attention is really on Jensen. There's just something about him. Jared's met his fair share of attractive people, but Jensen's sort of extra—extra handsome, extra beautiful, extra shy. He's cat nip as far as Jared's concerned, and even if they guy is studying his book intently, Jared wills him to look up so he can get another glimpse of those green eyes.

No such luck. Jensen's gaze is glued to the page, and Jared can't think of a way to start talking to him without it sounding like a cheesy pickup line. He turns back around to take his chai and sees Maddie's smirk.

"What?"

"I'm not surprised to see you today," Maddie says. "But I was surprised to see him." She tosses her head at Jensen.

"Why?"

"He always comes in before work. But he doesn't work Sundays."

"Why not?"

"The library's closed," she says, as if that explains everything.

Jared considers, and then the light bulb goes off. Oh! Jensen must work at the library. He narrows his eyes at the man. How could a guy this hot be a librarian? Did Jared win the lottery? Has he been granted three wishes he didn't know about? And if so, does the fact that Jensen showed up at the coffee shop on his off day mean that he came for a reason? Maybe he came on the off chance of running into Jared.

Jared smiles into his chai, and plots his next move carefully.

***

Jensen opens the library on Monday morning like he does every week, going through his mental checklist. He disarms the alarm system and boots up the computer. He clears out the return slot, leaving the books for his assistant librarian, Sarah, to check in when she gets in later in the morning. He checks his email and his messages, and then he manually unlocks the door of Cross Creek's one and only library at nine AM sharp.

The under-fives story hour doesn't start till eleven, and Sarah isn't due until ten, so Jensen's a little bit surprised when the door opens softly a little after nine. He looks up, ready to offer his assistance, but the words of greeting die in his throat when he sees who's come through the door.

It's him. The guy from Cross Creek Coffee. Jensen takes in the guy's sunny, friendly smile and feels his mouth sour into a reflexive frown. His expression doesn't seem to put Jared off, because he walks right up and says, "Hi! I just moved here and need a library card."

Jensen's surprise exists on several levels. One—he'd pegged the guy for a tourist straightaway, with his shaggy hair and athletic, if entirely too tall, build. He looks like a backpacker, maybe taking a break from a summer on the AT. Two—no one moves to Cross Creek, especially no one young. The last person Jensen had heard of was Mr. Padalecki, a retiree on a fixed income who'd always dreamed of retiring to a small town in Maine. Jensen remembers the last time Mr. Padalecki had been in looking for his usual Clive Cussler fix, he'd mentioned something about his son coming to visit. Could this be him? And three—he hadn't forgotten that Jared had actually spoken to him at the coffee shop. Well, he'd said, "hey." And Jensen had said, "hey" back. It had, pathetically, been the highlight of Jensen's week.

Jensen realizes he's just been staring and not actually doing his job, so he clears his throat. "Of course. I need your ID and proof of residency."

"Oh, sure." The guy digs his wallet out of his jean pocket, hands over a Texas drivers license. Jensen scans it, his suspicions confirmed. Jared Tristan Padalecki of Austin. His birthday puts him a good four years younger than Jensen and his height puts him a good four inches taller, which is saying something.

"Do you have a utility bill or something with your local address on it?"

Jared's smile dims marginally. "Uh—I'm pretty new to town, but I'm sure I can find something. I just moved in with my dad. He can vouch for me."

Jensen suppresses a smile. It's a lot harder to do than it should be. "Your dad's in here a lot. I'll give you a provisional card and whenever you think of it, just drop by with a piece of mail and we'll make it official."

"Awesome, thanks, man. Yeah, my dad's a big reader. You know him?"

"Small town," Jensen says, turning his attention to the computer to create an account for Jared in the system. It only takes a few seconds, but he finds himself drawing it out, trying to think of something to say. He realizes he doesn't need to bother, because Jared's fully capable of carrying on the conversation all by himself.

"This is a great library," Jared says, glancing around. "When was it built?"

"1884."

"Amazing. This is probably weird, but you know what my favorite thing about old libraries is? The smell. It smells like books and dust and makes me want to curl up and spend the day reading. Preferably on a rainy day, of course." Jared throws him an unselfconscious smile that makes it seem like he's never had a bad day in his life.

Jensen stares. Is this guy for real? But since Jensen's favorite thing about this library also happens to be the smell, he can't do anything but nod stiffly. "I just have to get the card from the printer. Back in a sec."

He spends the thirty seconds it takes to walk to the printer in his office and back cursing himself and his use of the word "sec." The problem is, he's gotten comfortable here. He's been in Cross Creek long enough, been at his job as head librarian long enough, to let his guard down. To be himself most of the time.

Sarah and Maddie and Mr. Padalecki don't seem to mind when Jensen's himself, a little boring, a little uptight, a little bit too prone to using words like "sec," as if he's a character from a P.G. Wodehouse novel.

But a cute 25-year-old Texas good-old-boy is exactly who Jensen can't be himself around. So he ignores Jared's smile and offers him the card and his first-timers spiel.

"There's a fifty-item limit. Everything except DVDs are checked out for three weeks. DVDs for one week. And be sure to bring in that proof of residency, or every time you check out the computer's not going to like it."

"You got it," Jared says, taking the card and sliding it into his wallet. Jensen averts his eyes as Jared slips the wallet back into his jeans, though he thinks he catches a glimpse of Jared's midriff as his shirt rides up in the process. But he can't be sure, because he isn't looking.

Jensen assumes Jared will be out of here once he's gotten what he came for, but of course he doesn't jet right away. He starts poking around the shelves, and Jensen's librarian training kicks in against his will.

"Looking for something in particular?"

"Not really. Maybe you could give me a tour?" 

Jensen hesitates, then walks out from behind the check-out desk. "Sure." 

Jared looks absolutely delighted to follow Jensen as he shows him the adult sections, the DVDs, and on and on. Jensen finds himself relaxing and telling Jared about the history of the library, how the upstairs children's room was recently renovated, about the programs they hold. "We've got a writer's group that meets a couple of times a month," he says as they pass by the modest conference room.

"Seriously?" Jared stops and Jensen turns around. He really is tall, and he fills out his t-shirt a little too well, reminding Jensen uncomfortably of the homophobic gym rat that used to live next door to him in Boston. "I don't know if my dad mentioned it—I'm actually a writer. I've got some freelance gigs, articles and stuff, but I'm working on—and I know this is the biggest cliche in the universe—a novel. A writer's group would be really amazing. I need all the motivation I can get some days."

"Every other Thursday," Jensen says. "One PM. But I don't know if you'd like the crowd."

"Why not?" Jared looks puzzled, and Jensen lets out out a breath. Just because Jared is from Texas, and built, and unnaturally friendly, doesn't mean he's a douchebag. He's surprised Jensen in a dozen different ways this morning; Jensen supposes he should stop making assumptions about the man.

"You know what? Never mind. You'll probably love them. And they'll love having some new blood."

"I'll be there," Jared promises.

Jensen pretends to be busy on the computer and not watching Jared out of the corner of his eye while he browses the shelves. He comes to the desk with the latest Michael Lewis nonfiction book and an older Ann Patchett novel, plus a Tom Clancy reissue, which Jensen is positive is for Jared's dad.

When he hands them back to Jared their fingers touch for one awful second, but Jared just gives him what Jensen is starting to realize is his patented smile. "Awesome. Thanks, Jensen. I'm really glad I stopped in."

"Anytime."

It isn't until Jared leaves that Jensen realizes he never told Jared his name.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Dad, I'm going to run some errands, but I'll be back for dinner. Need anything?" Jared scoops up the keys to the beat-up Jeep he's had since college, makes sure he has his wallet, and hovers by his dad's armchair. His dad's watching a fishing show, apparently with interest, but he mutes the sound and looks up at Jared with a soft smile on his wrinkled face.

Jim Padalecki had found love late in life, marrying Jared's mom when he was nearing fifty, a professor at UT, and she was a twenty-five-year-old grad student. They'd had twenty years and three children together when she died of breast cancer. He'd retired not long after, and decided to make a fresh start far from the place they'd made their home. Jim had always wanted to live in a village in Maine, so he'd left behind his kids, who were all making their way in the world by then, and moved to Cross Creek to start a new phase of life.

Jared knows his dad's been happy here, but he wishes the man he idolized growing up hadn't had to move thousands of miles away to deal with his grief.

"I might have a prescription ready," Jim says vaguely.

"Got it yesterday, remember?" Jared says evenly.

"Oh. That's right. Thanks, son."

"I'll see you in a while." He claps his hand down on his dad's shoulder and squeezes. It feels bonier than it did when Jared first got there, a couple of weeks ago now. Jared makes a mental note to get plenty for dinner, and maybe some of the rocky road ice cream his dad's partial to. Okay, Jared likes it, too.

The Jeep rumbles to life and Jared makes quick work of depositing a check at the bank and filling up the tank of the Jeep. His next errand is the one he's most looking forward to. He parks in the tiny lot behind the library and grabs the couple of items he has to return.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't timed his visit carefully. Jared's learned a few things since arriving to town, including the fact that Cross Creek's head librarian, Mr. Jensen Ackles, isn't exactly an open book.

Sure, in his visits to the library and the coffee shop they've talked a few times and Jared now knows that Jensen doesn't have any pets, that he likes to kayak and swim (which explains the shoulders), he reads absolutely everything, and he takes his coffee black. 

All of that's great, but Jared's been frustrated with how little below the surface he's gotten to know Jensen, which only makes him more curious about him. He can't help but want to know more, with the way Jensen's eyes pull Jared in like twin tractor beams, and how Jared's absolutely sure that the gruff voice Jensen usually speaks with is something of a put on. He heard him talk to Maddie, one day when Jared arrived at the coffee shop in time to hear Jensen put in his order, and his voice was softer, a little higher, and with a hint of a twang that sent a pang of homesickness right through Jared's core. But when Jensen had turned around and spotted Jared, his voice was pitched carefully low as he greeted him and then went to his usual table, which sadly only fits one.

But Jared's determined to get Jensen to relax around him, even if he has to borderline stalk him to do it.

He checks his phone for the time and slows his walk. He can't arrive too early, or his plan won't work. He strolls up to the front door exactly one minute after five, peers through the side window and taps on it to get Jensen's attention. The lights are off, but Jensen's clearly visible behind the check-out desk and his head jerks up at the noise. Jared motions and Jensen, after only a slight hesitation, gets up and walks to the door.

Jared drinks in Jensen. He loves Jensen's walk, adorably bowlegged, and he's probably smiling like an idiot by the time Jensen gets the door unlocked and opens it, but Jared can't help it. Jensen has that effect on him.

"I'm so sorry, I tried to get here before you closed," Jared lies. "Too late to make a return?"

"No, it's fine," Jensen says, holding out his hand. Jared looks it, wonders what Jensen would do if Jared put his hand in it, instead of the books. Carefully, he sets the books in Jensen's palm, and when Jensen retreats, Jared advances, casually letting himself into the dark library.

"Can I pick up that book you got in for Dad while I'm here?" Jared asks. His dad doesn't exactly urgently need the _Fly Fisherman's Guide to Maine Waterways_ , but Jensen doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, well, I already shut down the computer," Jensen says, a trace of regret in his voice.

"That's okay," Jared says easily. "I can come back tomorrow. Wouldn't want to make you late."

"Late for what?" Jensen says, brow furrowed.

"I don't know—for whatever plans you have. It's Friday night."

"I don't really have—"

Jared cuts him off mid sentence. "Great, then you'd be free for dinner? Dad and I are going to barbecue some steaks. I was thinking corn on the cob, too? I have to swing by the grocery store on the way home, but you could come over when you're done here."

Jensen blinks at Jared through his glasses. "Excuse me?"

"Dinner. My dad hasn't gotten out of the house this week, and I'm sure he'd like to have a conversation with someone not me for a change. And I dusted off the grill today. I've been dying for a juicy steak. It's summer!" Jared realizes he's rambling and he's probably selling the entire thing too hard, but he doesn't care. "And it's a gorgeous day. Please say you'll come."

Jensen's mouth does something complicated that results in a faint smile. "Okay, I guess. Nice day for grilling."

"Exactly!" Jared feels his cheeks stretch with his smile. "Okay, awesome. You better give me your number."

"Why?"

"I'll text you my address."

"Right." Jensen rattles off his digits and Jared thumbs them in, feeling triumphant. He's gotten Jensen to agree to dinner and his phone number in one fell swoop. Go him.

"See you soon, Jensen." 

Jensen looks a bit puzzled, but nods, and Jared scoots out the door, leaving while he's ahead. 

***

Thirty minutes later, Jensen stands anxiously in front of the refrigerator section of the package store, debating between beer and wine. Jared seems like the kind of guy who would drink beer, but he said they were having steak, which makes Jensen think a nice, opulent red wouldn't be rejected. He stares at the case until the colors of the cans run together in front of his eyes and he blinks, grabbing a six pack of Allagash White, then goes directly to the reds to get a reliable pinot.

"Hey, Jensen," says the man behind the counter, ringing him up carefully.

"Hey, Bob." Bob's a grizzled local who plays bingo at the library's monthly game night.

"You got plans this weekend?"

Jensen hadn't, in fact, had any plans beside the usual—coffee before opening up the library Saturday, doing a few projects on his house if the weather was fine Sunday, reading the new Stephen King he'd been saving as a treat. But suddenly he finds himself with something like a social life.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Dinner with friends," he says, feeling a little bit proud of himself. Mr. Padalecki, while a library patron, could be counted as a friend, considering the number of conversations they'd had in the last few years. And Jared—well, Jensen can't seem to stop being surprised by Jared, but he suspects that Jared would be terribly hurt if Jensen denied their fledgling friendship.

"Have a good night, hear?" Bob says. "Don't drink and drive."

Jensen nods solemnly. "Never."

The Padalecki father and son live a few blocks off the green in a neighborhood erected during the post-war boom. The houses are on large, leafy lots, but they're not much different from the tracts of ranch houses in the suburbs of Dallas where Jensen grew up. Mr. Padalecki's is tidy, the lawn neatly mowed. An American flag juts out from the porch, waving softly in the evening breeze. It's almost the solstice and the days are long. Jensen parks his car, grabs the adult beverages, and smooths down his white oxford shirt. He's glad he wore jeans today, a rare choice, but it feels more appropriate for dinner with friends than his usual khakis.

He can smell the coals already and he spots some kids playing in a sprinkler in a yard down the street. It's so quintessentially summer that he feels a little nostalgic for being ten and playing in the yard with his brother and sister, shrieking at the cold of the hose water, unconcerned about the multitude of freckles he was accumulating, unaware that in a couple of short years he'd be too self-conscious to play that freely with the boys on his block.

Shaking himself out of the memories, he walks up the concrete path, then detours to the back when he hears Jared's booming laugh. He finds them, Mr. Padalecki, a little more frail that Jensen remembers, sitting in a wicker armchair, a blanket over his lap despite the warm weather, and Jared, standing next to the simple round barbecue, seemingly testing the readiness of the coals by putting his hand over the fire.

"Jensen!" Jared's face lights up, and Jensen has to remind himself that Jared Padalecki is one of the friendliest people he's ever met. He smiles at strangers and dogs, babies and baristas. Jensen isn't special. It's just easy to imagine that he is when Jared looks at him like that.

"Hey, um, hi, Mr. Padalecki." Jensen waves and holds up his offerings. "I brought some um, wine, and beer."

"Thanks, Jensen, you didn't have to do that," Jared says, taking the six pack and adding it to a half-full ice chest. He sets the wine on the table next to a stack of unshucked corn.

"Nice to see you, Jensen. Call me Jim, please," Mr. Padalecki—Jim—says. Jensen had been half convinced this entire idea was going to end in disaster, but Jared asks Jensen to tell his dad about the water leak at the library earlier in the week and from there the conversation just flows, no pun intended. Jensen enjoys talking to Jim, even if he seems a little tired, a little off, and Jared keeps things moving, even as he gets himself one of the Allagashes that Jensen brought. Jensen takes a glass of water, and starts shucking the corn himself when it becomes apparent that Jared doesn't really have enough hands for everything he's trying to make happen with dinner.

Jared gives him a grateful smile as Jensen sets to work, the husks and silk coming away from the early corn with a bit of effort. Later in the summer the farms will be giving the stuff away.

They eat outside, too, the bottle of wine gets broken out eventually. Jensen thinks it tastes perfect with the steaks that Jared's miraculously kept juicy, and Jared seems to agree, helping himself to seconds of everything. Jim eats a few bites, but slows down. Jensen catches Jared's anxious glances at his father a few times over the course of the evening and he wonders if there's something else going on with the elder Padalecki. By the time the fireflies are dancing on the back lawn, Jensen's pleasantly full and his cheeks feel funny from so much laughing and smiling.

Jared jumps up. "I'll be right back with some rocky road."

"My favorite," Jensen says at the same moment Jim does.

Jared smiles. "That makes three of us," he says, then disappears inside.

"He's such a good boy," Jim says. "Always remembers my favorites. I'm glad he's made a friend here. It can be lonely in a new place. But then, Jared's never had much trouble making friends."

"No, I suppose he wouldn't." Jensen sighs. He's never had that particular gift.

"And you, it's nice to see you out of the library. I've worried about you, you know, from time to time."

Jensen frowns. "Worried about me? Why?"

"Small town. People can be idiots. Close-minded." Jim brow creases. "Course, I'm sure I don't have to tell you about that, being a Texan yourself."

Jensen freezes with his wine glass halfway to his mouth. It sounds as if Jim's implying, like he's saying—

He doesn't want to compute the rest of that, and Jim goes on, "You are from Texas, aren't you, son?"

"Richardson. Outside of Dallas." His mouth is dry and he sets down his glass.

"I knew it!" Jared's suddenly back, his arms full of heaping bowls of ice cream. They clatter as he passes them around. "I heard something in your voice—"

"I'm not sure I can stay for ice cream," Jensen says abruptly.

"What?" Jared says. "Of course you can."

"You aren't allergic to nuts, are you?" Jim asks, then turns to Jared. "What was your boyfriend's name, the one who was allergic to nuts and almost died at Megan's graduation party?"

Jared talks around a mouthful of ice cream. "Nate. That was awful. But Jensen's not allergic to nuts. Are you?"

Jensen's mind has been blown about four times in the last minute. He picks up the bowl of ice cream dazedly, takes a bite. "Nope."

"What ever happened to him?" Jim asks. "Wasn't he going to be a physicist?"

"Pharmacist," Jared corrects. "He was okay, but the nut thing was so annoying because he refused to carry an epi pen with him. Kind of ironic, for a pharmacist, right?" Jared tosses Jensen a look, as if they're sharing some kind of inside joke.

Jensen shrugs, keeps eating his ice cream because if his mouth is full he won't have to comment on this surreal conversation.

"The really ironic thing was that the guy I dated after him was allergic to shellfish." Jared pauses meaningfully. 

Jensen obliges him. "What's ironic about that?"

"He was a chef in a seafood restaurant," Jared crows. "Talk about high maintenance."

Jensen can't help it. He chuckles, and his chuckle turns into a full blown laugh, with a slightly hysterical edge. Jared—friendly, tall, smart, nice, cute _Jared_ , Jared who was becoming his friend, is gay. 

Jensen can't believe his terrible, awful, no-good, very bad luck.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's the thing. Jensen doesn't know how to be friends with someone who's gay. 

_Jared_ hasn't changed. Since dinner on the Padaleckis' back porch he's managed to get Jensen to spend his lunch hour with him a couple of times—somehow popping into the library just when Jensen's thinking about taking his break. He texts Jensen, too, quick hellos, some light complaining about a deadline for an article he's working on. Jared's the same as ever—friendly, open, decidedly unselfconscious about his father outing him to Jensen over bowls of rocky road.

It's Jensen who doesn't know how to deal. As always.

Jensen's the one who, when he thought Jared was just a nice straight boy who for some reason decided to make friends with the local librarian, could compartmentalize the embarrassing attraction he felt for the tall, tan, dimpled writer. He's had a lifetime's practice subsuming inappropriate, unwanted feelings for straight boys. He's good at it. So good, he thought he could handle dinner invites and Jared's smile and let himself make a friend.

But all that's fucked. Jensen knows his attraction hasn't gone away—how could it when Jared wears jogging shorts to the coffee shop one particularly hot morning, displaying mile-long legs, hair-dusted thighs that snag Jensen's gaze like Velcro. But now it's not his usual pathetic, useless, never-going-to-go-anywhere straight boy crush. Now he's got a hard-on for his gay friend, as if Jensen's so desperate he's gagging for it from any not-straight guy who crosses his path.

There aren't many in this neck of the woods, but that's one of the reasons Jensen likes it here. There's not much gay culture—the hippie lesbians who run the crystal shop in town are about the extent of it, as far as Jensen knows—but he wouldn't know how to be a part of a scene like that even if there was. He'd been closeted in Texas, thought going to college in Boston would make things better. It had been a relief to get away from his family, but he'd been overwhelmed. First by general culture shock, then it seemed like everyone on campus who wanted to be out was already out and had been since kindergarten. Everyone he met already seemed so…well adjusted. Queer and proud. And loud. That just wasn't Jensen.

Moving to Cross Creek had been a new beginning. Jensen would leave behind the pain, the confusion of knowing that the person he was, the person he wanted to be, and the person he looked like to the rest of the world were very different things. He'd go somewhere new, where no one knew him, and he'd be himself. By himself. 

It was a good plan, a solid plan, and it had worked out pretty well. He loves his job, at least. In the years since he took over as head librarian the library has been transformed from a dusty, practically volunteer-run organization that was only open three days a week into a thriving hub of the community, offering programming for every age group, open five and a half days a week, with free wifi and computer access. Jensen's proud of the work he's accomplished there. 

Sure, he's been lonely. He's used work to fill that loneliness a little, he supposes. But that's just part of the deal. That's what he's always expected. Until Jared Padalecki came along, barreling into Cross Creek, barreling into Jensen's library, into Jensen's life, making him want a friend. Making him hate himself a little bit for wanting that friend in more-than-friendly ways.

Which is why when Jared asks him if he wants to go kayaking with him that weekend, his first inclination is to say no, even though the river's high and the rain they've been having is supposed to clear up by Saturday.

"Come on, Maddie told me about this rental place and I know you have room for two kayaks on your roof rack. We can figure out how far we want to go and park my car at the other end. Bring food. Make a day of it?"

Jared looks so hopeful, his eyes imploring. God damn his eyes—does he practice that puppy-dog look in the mirror?

Jensen breathes, reminds himself that no one has to know if he finds Jared stupidly attractive. They're friends. Friends do stuff together. He's been longing to get out on the river, anyway.

"I guess Sarah can handle the library by herself," he hears himself say.

Jared's puppy eyes transform into happy slits as his grin expands, and Jensen's heart seems to expand with it, making his chest tight and itchy. 

"Great. It's a date," Jared says, and just like that, Jensen's heart freezes.

***

Jared knows he's made a mistake when the cautious smile on Jensen's face disappears and his eyes go carefully blank behind his glasses.

"Or, you know, not a date, date," he says, backtracking. He'd been so excited about spending an entire day with Jensen that he got a little ahead of himself. "I mean, unless—" Jared is positive that Jensen had been warming up to him over the last few weeks, and he knows that Jensen doesn't open up to people quickly, but Jared had thought maybe there was an exception to every rule, and in this case, a Jared-shaped exception. "—unless you might be ready for that?" he finishes uncertainly.

"I thought we were friends," Jensen gets out eventually, while Jared holds his breath.

"We are. We totally are, and that's totally what we can be going forward, too," Jared promises. And it's true. "But you gotta know, Jen, that I—well, I was hoping maybe we could be more than that? Someday?"

"How do you—" Jensen starts, but then he shakes his head. He looks flushed and uncomfortable and Jared wishes he hadn't said anything at all. Then Jensen finishes his sentence on a whisper and Jared has to lean in to hear. "—know I'm gay?"

The question filters in and Jared takes in Jensen's face and his hands, rigid at his sides and he realizes how monumentally he's fucked up here.

"Oh, Jensen, man—are you not out? I'm sorry, I thought—" Jared's mind races for way to fix this. "I didn't know. I hoped, when I saw you for the first time at the coffee shop. Remember?"

Jensen nods minutely and Jared takes it as a good sign.

"And then I started getting to know you, and my dad mentioned it, I think, and I just…you are, aren't you?"

"Your dad?" Jensen's still whispering.

"He's got amazing gaydar. He knew I was gay before I did."

"Oh."

"But obviously just because you're—I mean, that doesn't mean you'd want to go on a date with me. Obviously. Forget I asked. We'll still go kayaking. It'll be fun. I promise." Jared will deal with his disappointment later. What matters now is not losing the precious ground he's gained with Jensen. Jensen needs friends, of that Jared is certain. And Jared wants to be Jensen's friend, even if looking at him hurts sometimes because he's so beautiful. Jared can handle it. He's a grown up.

"I should have known you'd think kayaking makes a good first date," Jensen mutters.

Jared feels his eyes widen, but he doesn't allow himself to get his hopes up. "So what do you think makes a good first date?" he asks softly.

Jensen sighs and then seems to force himself into eye contact with Jared. "I haven't been on very many of those." 

Jared doesn't understand how someone so smart, so interesting and caring, so undeniably attractive hasn't been scooped up long before now. But Jensen's response to the fact that Jared knows he's gay and figured it was common knowledge is shedding some light. Jared doesn't know what happened to make Jensen afraid, or uncomfortable, whatever it is, but he wants to find out. He knows not everyone's as lucky as he was to have a family who never made him feel like an outsider for being who he is. He aches with a need to smooth over those hurts in Jensen's heart, and with a need to rage at whoever inflicted those hurts to begin with.

First things first. "Dinner and a movie is the traditional thing. But I think it's overdone."

"Cliché, even," Jensen says, smiling a little now.

"Exactly. A first date should be tailored to the person you're going on the date with."

"Kayaking for me, food for you?" Jensen says and the fact that he's joking about this makes Jared almost limp with relief.

"Hey, don't tell me you don't like a good picnic."

Jensen doesn't answer directly. "I'll text you a list of things to bring. Sunscreen, stuff like that."

"Sounds good," Jared says quickly. If they're still going, and going as friends, he'll take it.

"And Jared?" Jensen pauses, takes a breath and says in a rush, "It's a date."

***

The river's running high, which means fast. Jared, while not as experienced as Jensen is, has done this a couple of times before, so they get in synch pretty quickly, heading down the Penobscot on a gorgeously clear July day.

Even though this is apparently a date—and Jensen's still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Jared wants to be more than friends—so far their interactions have been strictly platonic. Okay, there was a moment when Jensen unloaded the kayaks from the roof rack and Jared's eyes had seemed glued to Jensen's biceps. And the offer Jared made to apply sunscreen to any part that Jensen couldn't reach when he was slathering the stuff on his face, made with a faux innocent expression. 

Jensen doesn't know how to handle it—the flirtation and the casual ogling. It's something he knows straight couples do. It's something he's always wanted. It isn't something he ever expected to have for himself.

They catch a current and set their paddles aside, drifting downstream within talking distance.

"So when's lunch?" Jared asks. 

Jensen laughs. "We've been on the river for all of thirty minutes."

"And I'm starving."

"There's a good place to stop a couple of miles from here. We can pull the kayaks up and eat on the shore. Maybe swim if we feel like it. For now, eat some gorp."

"Gorp? You are a Boy Scout," Jared says. But he digs the trail mix out of the dry bag Jensen brought for him all the same.

"You should talk. You have Eagle Scout stamped all over you."

"Nah. Never made it past Cub Scouts."

"Problem with authority?" Jensen guesses.

"My scout leader was a homophobic dick," Jared says lightly. "My dad pulled me out."

"Your dad's a good man," Jensen says.

"The best." Jared frowns. The expression is so rare for him that Jensen leans forward, wants to rest his hand on Jared's arm, but the kayaks are too far away for that.

"What's wrong?"

"Maybe you can tell, but Dad's not well. I thought that moving here, being around all the time, I could help him with his meds and make sure he eats right and everything. And that's been good—I know it's helping, but I just have this feeling that he's…well, his doctor hasn't mentioned hospice yet, but—"

"Hospice? Jesus, Jared, that's—I had no idea." Jensen knows Jim's visits the library have slacked off in the last year. He should have realized something was wrong. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jared's frown is replaced with one of his sunny smiles, and Jensen feels ten feet tall just for having asked.

"I'll let you know, thanks, Jensen."

"Of course."

The river takes them through woods and fields and under bridges until Jensen spots the sandy island where they can picnic. He's hungry, too, with all the fresh air and sunshine and intensity of being so close to Jared for so long. He rarely spends unbroken periods of time with anyone outside of the library. He should feel anxious, ready to return to solitude, but he doesn't. Being with Jared isn't difficult. It doesn't make him long for the time to be over; he wants it to last. He likes the person he is with Jared, someone almost…normal.

The two of them fall on their picnic lunches with gusto, and when all that's left is crumbs, Jared whips off his shirt, kicks off his sneakers, and runs toward the water, hollering that the last one in's a rotten egg. Jensen holds still, unable to take his eyes off the sight of a shirtless Jared, nipples hardened to buds in the icy mountain run-off, laughing and splashing as he dives in again and again.

"Come on, Jen. It feels incredible." Jared's teeth gleam in the sunshine. He is the sun, hot and radiant, pulling Jensen in with inescapable gravity. Jensen follows suit, pulling off his shirt, folding his glasses neatly on top of it, leaving on his practical water shoes, taking a deep breath and diving in.

The water's cold, but he knew it would be. He swims a few strokes to catch up to Jared, who's treading water a little ways upstream. It's hard swimming against the current, but his muscles are happy to get the exercise. Jared looks like a puppy, water streaming from his hair, laughing in delight. Jensen doesn't think, he doesn't second guess himself, he just launches himself toward Jared, latching his mouth over Jared's eternally smiling one.

It's awkward, because it's not shallow enough for them to stand, so all of sudden they're kissing and trying not to drown and the first thing isn't really helping with the second. Jensen pulls away, gasping for air, and then grabs Jared's arm, pulling him toward shore.

"Fuck," Jensen says, voice small. "Sorry, that was—"

The minute their feet touch the rocky river bottom, Jared cuts Jensen off with another kiss. This one's less frantic than the first, but it makes Jensen shiver all over, and not just from the chilly water. 

Jared's mouth is full and generous, and so are his kisses. His tongue licks at Jensen's sensitive bottom lip, and then into his mouth, and Jensen melts like a popsicle left in the sun. Jared kisses like he means it, firm and confident, and it's been so long since Jensen's kissed anyone, it takes him a minute to do anything but go along for the ride. 

Finally, finally, he comes into himself enough to let his arms go around Jared's firm, taut waist, and the feeling of someone lean and strong and male in his arms makes his cock respond involuntarily. He ignores that and chases the taste of Jared with his tongue. Jared tastes like turkey sandwiches and iced tea and laughter and sunshine and hope.

They kiss for endless minutes until Jensen's lips feel raw and his body really is shivering from standing in cold water. They drag themselves back to the sandbar, sprawl in the sun and let the river evaporate off them. Jared holds Jensen's hand in his and smiles at him softly, like their first kiss meant as much to him as it did to Jensen. That's impossible, but still. 

Jensen can't help but feel that the entire day, hell, his entire life since he met Jared, has been a dream. An all day dream he doesn't ever want to wake up from.


	4. Chapter 4

It's hard to say goodbye at the end of the day, even though Jared's tired and sweaty, the bridge of his nose a little sunburned and his muscles singing from the fifteen-mile kayak trip. They returned the rental kayak and drove back to the start to pick up Jensen's car, and now all that's left is for Jared to stop kissing Jensen and let him drive home. But he can't seem to make himself. 

Jared has kissed a lot of people over the years, but no one has ever invaded all his senses the way Jensen does. There's touch, obviously, the silky glide of Jensen's perfect lips contrasted with the rough of his day's worth of stubble against Jared's chin. Taste—behind the wholesome taste of the trail mix they've been eating all day there's another wholesome flavor—pure Jensen. He tastes sweet and almost innocent to Jared; he can't get enough. Smell, of course, beneath the tang of sunscreen and the sheen of sweat, Jensen's scent hits Jared somewhere primal. He wants to rub himself in Jensen's singular smell, so that Jared smells like him, too. The way Jensen sounds when Jared's mouth is on his is unbelievable. He makes these soft little groans, half-bitten off, as if he's trying to hold them in. Jared can't wait until he has Jensen someplace they can be as loud as they want. He'll coax Jensen's full range out of him one touch, one taste, at a time. Last, there's the sight of Jensen when Jared finally, reluctantly, pulls away. His lips are red and his eyes unfocused, and Jared thinks he's the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

"Damn," Jared says, rubbing his mouth with his hand. Everything tingles and all they've done is kiss.

"Do you want—I could pull something together for dinner at my place," Jensen says. His voice is a little breathy and it makes Jared want to strip him naked and kiss him all over.

"I wish I could. I've got to check on Dad; he's been alone all day." 

Jensen straightens up, tenses a little. "I forgot. Of course." Jensen sounds embarrassed now—for forgetting that Jared has someone to take care of? Or because he thinks Jared thinks the invitation was too much, too soon?

What Jared still doesn't know about Jensen is a lot, but he knows that it was a big deal for Jensen to kiss him today. The last thing he wants to do is make him feel rejected—especially when all Jared really wants is to extend their time together.

"Hey, you aren't working tomorrow. Maybe you could come by for breakfast? I'll make pancakes."

"You make pancakes?"

"Hey, I have more skills than just charring meat." Jared grins then leans in and presses one more kiss to the corner of Jensen's mouth. "Come over around nine, okay?"

"Okay," Jensen echoes quietly.

Driving away, Jared feels like he's left part of himself behind with Jensen. He hasn't felt this way over a guy in a long time. Maybe not ever, not exactly like this. He can't explain it, but it's almost as if the moment he saw Jensen in that coffee shop, saw the light in his eyes, took in his defensive frown, Jared knew that he was going to be the one to erase that frown, to put the light in his eyes. 

He shivers and pushes the thought away. He didn't move to Cross Creek to fall in love. He's got no business thinking about the future, when he needs to focus on his dad in the here and now.

The house is dark when he pulls up, which makes Jared nervous. He finds Jim sitting in his chair, the lights all off, asleep in front of the TV. He flips on the light and turns off the television and Jim stirs, waking slowly.

"Hey, Dad. I'll get some dinner going. Soup sound okay?"

"Soup? Okay."

"You didn't have that for lunch, did you?"

"Lunch?"

Jared pokes his head into the kitchen and curses. It doesn't look like his father's set foot in it all day. "Never mind, Dad. I'm on it."

"How was your outing?" Jim asks, voice a little clearer. "Catch any fish?"

"We didn't go fishing, Dad, just kayaking. And it was great. Jensen really knows the river."

"I like Jensen," Jim says.

"Me, too, Dad."

***

Sometimes Jensen wishes he had a close friend he could bounce ideas off of. Or you know, get a reality check. Someone he could ask if his and Jared's relationship makes any sense at all, or if he's completely bungled everything.

He's in line at Cross Creek Coffee, nearly two weeks after kayaking with Jared, and when he gets to the counter Maddie rings him up for his usual without even asking. She knows him as well as anyone in this town, sees him as often as anyone. Does that count as a friend?

"Hey, Maddie, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

Jensen stares at her, having no idea how to actually put into words the questions swirling around in his head. "Uh—when two people…um. How long—" Jensen glances around the half-full coffee shop, realizes anyone could just walk in while they're talking. Including Jared. "You know what? Never mind."

Maddie's face has gone from confused to soft. "I'm going to unpack some stuff in the storeroom. Keep me company?" She taps the college kid working with her on the shoulder. "Back in ten."

"Uh, okay." Jensen grabs his mug of coffee and follows Maddie behind the kitchen to a little storeroom where she starts tearing into a cardboard box.

"You and Jared doing okay?" Maddie asks.

Jensen's first instinct is to splutter and deny, but then he realizes it's actually easier that she's just put it out there. "I think so. I'm just—not very good at relationships." That sounds better than completely inexperienced, anyway. "We've been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. And we haven't—I'm just a little confused. In college, everything was about hook-ups. It was all brief encounters. And Jared—we're friends. And we kiss."

"Nice." Maddie says simply. She opens another box of cups, starts stacking them on a shelf.

Jensen realizes it helps that she's not looking at him. "But that's it—just kissing. Does he not want anything else? Did I make it seem like I didn't want anything else? Does he regret that we kissed and just want to go back to being friends? I feel like I fucked up."

"First of all, while I'm honored that you're talking to me about this, maybe you should ask Jared these questions. He might be eight feet tall, but he's basically an eight foot tall marshmallow." Maddie pauses, box cutter in hand. "But maybe he's just taking it slow. That's what boys do sometimes when they really like you."

"Taking it slow?" That hadn't exactly occurred to Jensen. He'd gone to _Jared finds me repulsive_ before he'd thought of _taking it slow_.

"I can guarantee Jared wants to get in your pants, Jensen. But maybe he doesn't want to rush you."

Jensen flushes. Oh god. Does he give off some virginal vibe, where even Maddie can tell he's out of his depth after some making out? Because as wonderful as Jared is—with their lunches and their texting and the three long, slow make-out sessions they've had in the last two weeks, each one ending with Jared pulling away and having to be somewhere else—Jensen can't deny that the concept of going further is a little…intimidating. Which is ridiculous, because he's nearly thirty and he should know what to do to get a guy to go to second base with him. Only he doesn't.

"You know what I'd do if I wanted to speed things up a little?" Maddie says offhandedly as she breaks down the last of the boxes. "I'd plan really romantic, private night in. No distractions, some soft music, maybe some wine…"

"That's so cheesy," Jensen says.

"But it works. Also, lose the button-down. I bet you've got a really soft, gray, slightly too-small t-shirt in the back of a drawer someplace?"

Jensen really doesn't know what that has to do with anything, but he nods.

"Wear it. Trust me. Jared won't be able to resist."

"An old t-shirt and wine?"

"Look—you asked, there's my advice. Now you've got to get to work and I've got to refill the pastry case. Go call your boy and make a date."

Jensen's stomach cramps up thinking about being the one who makes the next move. But suddenly he realizes every time they hang out, it's because Jared asks him first. It's his turn. And as he follows Maddie back out front, he realizes he feels better after talking to her. "Thanks, Maddie. You didn't have to talk me through that and I really—"

She stops him with a wave of her hand. "What are friends for?"

Friends. So they are. Jensen's heart is light with the knowledge all the way to work.

Later that afternoon, he's carved a half hour of time between ordering new materials and having to set up for bingo night and he's busy anxiously looking at the screen of his phone, wondering how to get Jared to agree to the plan Jensen's spent all day concocting. Fucking texting. Jensen loves the written word, but sometimes a phone call is just plain easier.

He stabs the button on his screen with more force than necessary and waits to see if Jared will pick up.

He could have waited to do this in person; Jared had said he might swing by bingo night if could get Jim settled, but if he's going to turn Jensen down it'll be easier to hide his disappointment over the phone.

Jared picks up with a surprised, "Hey," sounding happy to hear from Jensen. Or maybe just happy—that is Jared's default, after all.

"Hey. Hope I'm not bothering you."

"Nah. Just banging my head against some edits. What's up?"

"So I remember you told me you wanted to try to get to Portland to see the new exhibit at the art museum so you could write an article about it. I haven't been to Portland in forever, and I thought I could come keep you company. I found a deal on a room at hotel downtown Saturday night, so we don't have to rush. I could take you to this amazing doughnut place in Munjoy Hill. I don't know—it could be fun?" By the time he stops rambling, Jensen's lost any assertiveness he started with.

Jared's quiet for a second. "You want to go to Portland with me for the weekend?"

"Well, yeah. If you want."

Jared blows out a breath. "Fuck, Jensen, that sounds amazing. But I don't think I can leave Dad for that long—"

"I actually, uh, called his doctor and he gave me the name of a nurse who could come stay with him, just while we're gone. I guess he already knows her—Patty Bledsoe?"

"Oh, yeah, Patty. She's great. If she's available—"

"Yeah, so I checked and she is. She said she could come over any time to get the download about his meds and meals and everything."

"Wow, Jensen, that's so thoughtful." The warmth in Jared's voice bleeds through the phone, making Jensen feel like maybe this wasn't his worst idea ever. "Then, let me talk it over with Dad, but I—I'd love to."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Jared laughs and Jensen feels his shoulders relax for the first time all day. "Hey, if I hurry up on the edits I might still be able to make bingo."

"I'll save a card for you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying well/sane. Thanks for reading along with this WIP. I upped the chapter count slightly--I don't want to rush things. <3

Jensen always thinks of Portland, Maine's largest and most cosmopolitan city, as so far from out-of-the-way Cross Creek, but the two-hour drive flies by with Jared in his passenger seat. They talk about anything and everything, while the Spotify playlist Jared shared with him a few days ago, heavy on local Austin bands that Jensen's never heard of but doesn't hate, plays low in the background.

Before he knows it, they're pulling up to the hotel, boutiquey but not so small that they're going to be expected to make small talk with the owners or anything, park and leave their bags for later.

"Museum first or lunch first?" Jensen asks, even though he already knows the answer. He's gotten used to Jared's metabolism, and even though it's on the early side, he could stand to eat, too.

Jared shoots him an amused look.

"Food it is." Jensen already scoped out a few lunch spots, so once he gets his bearings he starts toward the nearest one—a promising looking brewpub with its own craft beer label. It's still pretty early and they get their pick of high topped tables with a view of the street outside. It's fun to people watch—Portland is a tourist draw in late July, even though today's weather is hot and humid, the sea breeze not doing much to cool things down.

They each order a beer and a burger. Jared's knees brush against Jensen's a couple of times under the table, and by the third time Jensen figures out that Jared doesn't actually want Jensen to give him more room. He lets their legs touch, and Jared smiles at him over his pint glass.

"This is really great," Jared says softly. "Thanks for getting me out of the house."

"I'm glad it worked out. Your dad doesn't mind you taking a night away?" Jensen wants to tack on "with me" at the end of that sentence, but he guesses it's implied.

"He was actually really encouraging. He's lived on his own for so long, I think it's been a little hard to have me underfoot all the time. Plus, Patty will catch him up on all the town gossip. He wants us to have fun—he actually told me about a bar that sounds cool. Blackstones? You wanna go?"

Jensen had turned that place up in his restaurant search and knows it's a gay bar. "Yeah, maybe," he says noncommittally. It still blows his mind that Jared's dad not only doesn't seem to care that his son is gay, but he's comfortable talking about his boyfriends and tells him about gay bars. Jim knows Jensen's gay—that he and Jared are going to spend the night together—and he's actively being supportive.

"Well, I'm glad it worked out," he says, and then the server brings their burgers and they're too busy eating for a few minutes to talk. The burger's delicious, but Jensen's thoughts are caught on the idea that he and Jared are actually going to be spending the night together in a hotel room, and so far they haven't done more than kiss. He's nervous on a number of levels, but then he looks at Jared, and Jared seems so calm, he's acting so normal, maybe he's blowing this all out of proportion and it's not a big deal.

"Hey, you should try my beer," Jared says, holding up his glass. 

Jensen takes it from him, sips the hoppy brew. It's tangier than his, and good. He passes the glass back and says he likes it. Jared's looking at him with a funny expression on his face.

"What?"

"You've got some foam on your lip," Jared says, his gaze locked on Jensen's mouth.

Jensen swipes his tongue over his lips, a little embarrassed, chasing the hoppy flavor. "All good?" he asks casually.

Jared's still staring at his mouth. "Uh, yeah. You got it. Fuck, Jensen. I really want to kiss you right now."

Jensen can't help tensing, glancing around the restaurant. It's not like Jared said he's going to do it, but Jensen still shrinks back from the idea. Touching knees under a table is one thing. Kissing in public is another. The restaurant is half full with families and couples and maybe no one would notice, but maybe someone would and—

"Hey, it's cool." Jared's words are soft, like he knows what Jensen's thinking. "I just wanted you to know."

Jensen is so not used to this—not used to any of it. He's not used to the touches, to the flirting, to the way they're sitting at lunch together, the way any two guy friends would, but they're not just friends. This isn't two bros out for a burger. This is a date. They're supposed to be having a fun, romantic weekend, and Jensen's fucking it up with his baggage.

"Not that I don't want to kiss you all the time," Jared says, matter of fact, as if he's talking about the weather. "You want dessert?"

"I'm sorry, Jared." The words come out without Jensen's brain's prior approval.

"You're sorry you don't want dessert? That's okay, I'm pretty full." Jared has decimated his burger, fries, and a good portion of Jensen's, too.

"I'm sorry I suck at this so much. No wonder you haven't—" he stops. This isn't the place.

"I haven't what?" Jared's tone isn't defensive, just curious.

"We haven't, you know, done anything except make out." Jensen's practically whispering, but Jared can hear him because his expression changes. He looks almost uncomfortable.

"Oh. Well. Yeah." Jared's laugh is stilted. "I know. It's kind of hard to explain."

"You don't have to—" Jensen really doesn't want to hear that Jared only likes him as a friend, or isn't as gay as he thought, or doesn't get turned on by Jensen, any of the other reasons Jared might have for keeping things PG.

"I've had a lot on my plate, moving to a new place, and helping Dad, and then I met you and—I wasn't expecting to meet anyone, honestly. You took me by surprise and the way I feel when I'm around you—it's just. Getting to know you—and believe me, I'm aware I've only explored the tip of the iceberg that is Jensen Ackles—has been amazing. And I guess my feelings for you are kind of new to me and so I haven't known quite what to do with them. But none of that is on you—so I'm the one who should apologize."

Jensen ignores for a second the hurt he feels when Jared calls him an iceberg—he probably didn't mean it in a bad way—and focuses on a different part of Jared's rather rambling response. "You have feelings for me?"

Jared's eyes widen at that. "Of course I do, Jensen."

Jensen's hot and cold at the same time. "I'm sorry. Again. I'm not—you're so much more—I mean, you've had a lot of boyfriends and I—I guess I thought you kind of knew what you were doing." Jensen feels like an idiot, but he's not 100% sure why. He should be happy that Jared has feelings for him, and he is, on some level, but he's also terrified. "I don't know what any of this means."

***

Jared considers himself fairly experienced in relationships, but he's totally out of his depth now and taking one look at Jensen's face convinces him that makes two of them at this table. 

"I don't know, Jensen. Look—the way it usually works is I meet I guy I'm attracted to, we go out, we have sex, and repeat until we stop seeing each other for one reason or another. But it's different with you. Because—"

"I'm different?" The way Jensen says it makes it sound like a bad thing.

"You're special." Jared winces. God, that's so dorky, and Jensen must agree because he makes a face. "Okay, forget that. Fuck, Jensen. You scare me. You scare the shit out of me. That's how different this feels."

When Jensen speaks his voice has a tremulous edge. "You scare me, too."

"So fuck whatever came before this, okay? If I'm scared, I want to be scared with you. Scared together. Okay?"

Jensen nods. 

"And believe me, making out with you is hotter than a lot of the stuff I've done that was more…involved."

"Really?" Jensen doesn't look convinced.

Jared nods, feels a heaviness in his groin just thinking about it. "I've jerked off more in the last two weeks than since I first learned what my dick was for." Jensen's blush is priceless and doesn't do anything to stop the surge of heat in Jared's jeans.

"Every night, I'd come home and I could still smell you on me, and wouldn't want to wash it off. I'd lie in my bed, in the dark, and touch myself and wish it was you."

Jensen's blush deepens and he shifts on his stool. Good. Jared needs to know that Jensen wants him just as bad. "So don't think I don't want more. Don't think I haven't thought of every way I want to be with you. I want it, Jensen. I want you."

Jensen inhales, and Jared hopes he hasn't pushed too much, but he's not going to lie. "So tonight—" Jensen starts, then stops, looking strained.

"Whatever you want, Jen." Jared swallows. He doesn't make promises he can't keep. "I'm serious. You tell me what you want. You want to kiss and go to sleep—I'm good with that. You want to tie me up and do kinky shit—I can get into that too. Whatever you want. Anything. Okay?"

"Anything?"

"Yes."

Jensen nods, as if he's made up his mind about something. "Work first, then play. Let's go see that exhibit and then…I'll tell you what I want."

Jared groans. He should have known that Jensen would want to stick to the schedule. But he's happy, too, because they survived their first conversation about their relationship and Jensen isn't running for the hills. Jared wants him more than ever.

"You're so strict," Jared teases. "It's kind of a turn-on."

"Then I'll feel free to boss you around the rest of the day."

Jared would be embarrassed at the way those words go straight to his dick, but he's too into it to care. Still, he drains his beer while they wait for the check, and tries to think unsexy thoughts before they have to order dessert just to get the swelling to go down.

Eventually, even though Jensen's mouth is perpetually distracting, and his flashing green eyes behind those adorkable glasses are nearly as bad, Jared gets himself under control. They split the check and head back out to the street, the humidity having ratcheted up even further while they were inside.

The walk is short, but Jared still feels like he's dripping a gallon of sweat by the time they get into the air conditioned museum. Jensen's glowing, while Jared feels disgusting. They buy their tickets and start exploring, Jared using his phone to record some voice notes on the special exhibit he's going to write up for an art blog he freelances for. Jensen's pretty knowledgeable about art, so he gives Jared some background and mentions a couple of books the library has that will help him with research.

The crowds thin out as they ascend levels. When they get to the permanent collection on the third floor, Jared looks around and realizes they're the only ones in sight. He knocks lightly into Jensen's side, then swings around to face him. "Hey."

"Hey," Jensen says. The exchange reminds Jared of the first time he saw Jensen, except today Jensen's smiling instead of frowning. And today Jared can do this—he kisses Jensen lightly on the mouth, then pulls back. Nothing major. Nothing that would get them into trouble. He just wants to show Jensen that they have as much right to kiss in a museum gallery as the next annoyingly cute couple. Jared knows to his core that anyone who looks at them can tell that they're completely into each other, and if they have any smarts whatsoever, they're jealous. Because Jensen is the hottest guy in any room, and Jared still can't quite believe he's been lucky enough to get to know him.

Jensen's smile falters for a second after Jared kisses him, and he glances around. It's still just them, and a bunch of contemporary art. He takes a breath, then kisses Jared back.

Jared smiles like a lunatic the rest of the time they wander around the museum.

When they emerge back onto the street an hour later the humidity's so thick it feels like breathing water. The sky's dark with storm clouds and fat rain drops are starting to fall.

"Shit. We're going to get caught in it," Jensen says.

"In what?" Jared asks, just as a flash of light tears across the sky above them and a resounding boom hits only a few seconds later. "Oh."

"We're a few blocks from the hotel. Want to make a run for it?" Jensen's glasses are practically steamed over and his white button down is polka dotted with rain.

"I'm game," Jared says. They start jogging down the street just as the rain turns into a downpour. Jared laughs, his feet squishing in his soaked-through sneakers. People around them are either popping up umbrellas or running for shelter in doorways, but he and Jensen keep moving, Jensen's grin and surprising speed pushing Jared on.

They're completely soaked through and laughing when they reach the entrance to the hotel and stumble into the lobby, wet and winded. Jensen looks like a little boy, his face stretched into such a pure smile as he giggles and drips onto the hotel lobby floor. Jared's heart flips in his chest; it almost hurts how much he feels in that moment, and suddenly everything is so clear. Jensen's more than just a summer fling, or a new boyfriend, or someone Jared has feelings for, someone Jared wants. Yes, he's all that, and more. He's all that and _everything_.

Jared had been worried about falling in love, but it's too late. He's already there. He's in love with Jensen and there's nothing anyone can do about it.


	6. Chapter 6

Getting their room key and bringing up the bags seems to take forever, but only because they're wet and Jared's starting to get cold. He's also trying not to freak out over the fact that he's fallen in love for the first time and he has no idea how to tell Jensen—or even if he should. 

Jensen's not like anyone he's ever met. He doesn't react to things like other people. He thinks a lot, but he feels a lot, too. Jared loves that about him, and the last thing he wants to do is scare him off.

He decides to bide his time. They only have this one night before they go back to regular life in Cross Creek, where articles and deadlines and noodling around on his novel, not to mention taking care of Dad, will fill most of Jared's hours, and Jensen's work at the library will fill most of his. No sense complicating things with potentially unwanted declarations of love.

Still, Jared's not the best at keeping big stuff to himself, so he's basically jumping out of his skin by the time they get to their spacious corner room with a sliver of a view of the ocean.

The room's air conditioned and Jared feels every inch of his wet clothes sticking to his skin. He drops his backpack on a chair and turns to Jensen. He's looking out the window, at the storm that's already moving past the city, and he looks so beautiful in profile. Jared catalogues his strong nose, the unmistakable curve of his lip, the shell of his ear, the sharp line of his glasses, and then his gaze drops lower, where Jensen's white button down has molded itself to his lean, broad chest. Jensen's nipples, hard and visible beneath the wet fabric, make Jared forget every thought of discomfort, every hesitation over his feelings. All thoughts at all, really, fly out of his head. He has to touch Jensen before he dies with want.

He's across the room in two steps, his hands come up to cradle Jensen's face. He stops. He's about to kiss Jensen for the first time knowing that he loves him. He wants to remember it.

"Jared?" Jensen's voice is soft.

Jared responds with a kiss just as soft, soft as a cloud, soft and reverent for the man in front of him. He keeps it soft as long as he can, before Jensen's mouth opens up for him. Then everything happens at once—Jensen's arms around Jared's waist, and Jared's tongue in Jensen's mouth. Jensen shivers once—almost violently; Jared doesn't know if it's from the cold air on their wet skin or something else.

"Let's get you out of these wet clothes," he murmurs against Jensen's neck as he starts to unbutton Jensen's shirt. They strip, together, in fits and starts, leaving soggy little piles by the bed and laughing, falling together onto the crisp white comforter wearing nothing but their boxers briefs. Jared's never seen so much of Jensen's skin at once and it's overwhelming, smooth and dotted with freckles and moles that he needs to map with fingers and tongue and maybe even teeth—but not yet, not today.

Today is about Jensen and what he needs—what he wants.

Jared brushes his hand against the hard bulge of Jensen's erection experimentally. Jensen jerks away and Jared almost apologizes, but then Jensen pushes right back in, reaching down to mold Jared's hand to his cock through the fabric. Jared palms him greedily, feeling the heft and weight as well as he can, kissing Jensen stupid while rubbing up and down Jensen's length. "You feel so good," he whispers. "God, Jensen, you're so amazing."

Jensen shivers again, his hands gripping Jared's shoulders tight. "Stop."

Jared freezes. His heart rate triples in the silence that follows, until Jensen whispers, "I'm going to come if you don't stop." He sounds almost embarrassed, but Jared's been on the edge for hours—coming's sort of the point right now. Who cares how fast they get there? They have all night.

"It's okay, Jen, I want to make you feel good." Jared slips his hand slowly beneath Jensen's waistband, holding eye contact with Jensen as he does so, looking for signs that Jensen wants him to stop. "Okay?"

Jensen just nods, his eyes wide behind his glasses. His cock is hot and thick in Jared's hand. Jared could come just from being allowed to touch Jensen like this. He sets his own arousal aside and focuses on Jensen, kissing and touching him until Jensen's spine relaxes against the bed, until he's thrusting up into Jared's palm. His eyes close and he comes with a hoarse shout. Jensen's come coats Jared's fingers, and there's a minute of awkwardness while Jared uses his long arms to keep one anchored on Jensen and the other to retrieve a box of tissues from the far night table. He swipes up most of the mess, and tosses the tissues in the general direction of a trash can.

Jensen's face is unreadable. Jared noses his way along Jensen's neck, finding his favorite spot to kiss, just under his jaw. "Okay?" He's still burning with everything he wants, but he's practiced keeping his needs at bay around Jensen.

Jensen doesn't answer, just says, "I need to—I want you to come, Jared."

"Yeah." Jared kisses him again in that spot. "Okay." Then Jensen's scooting down the bed, his bare chest scraping along Jared's skin. It feels amazing but Jensen's shoulders look tense and Jared knows by now what that means. "Hey, wait a second."

Jensen doesn't seem to hear him, just pulls down Jared's underwear. He's so hard there's a smack as his cock springs forward and then back against his belly. Jared looks down and Jensen's licking his lips. "Wait, Jen."

Jensen looks up. His eyes are round behind the glasses, his mouth is turned down. "Don't you want…?"

"Not if you don't want to do it," Jared says. "I thought I made that pretty clear. Whatever _you_ want. And I can kind of tell when you're doing something you don't want to do."

Jensen blinks. "You can?"

"Your shoulders get this kind of hunched, tense thing, and your mouth—god, Jensen, I don't think I've ever met anyone whose mouth has so many moods. So come back up here."

Jensen looks uncertainly from Jared's cock to his face, but then he shimmies back up the bed.

"What do you want?" Jared says again.

"I meant what I said—I want to make you come."

"But you don't want to give me a blow job."

"It's not that I don't want to." Jensen looks away from Jared, then back again. "I know you think I'm some sexually repressed quasi-virgin, but I have given blow jobs before. That mostly seemed to be what guys wanted from me, when I was trying out the whole hook-up scene. So, it's not like I don't know what I'm doing." Jensen's voice has gotten smaller and smaller as he talks.

"Hey, Jen, I don't think anything, okay? I just—I have this feeling that you think I have some checklist or expect something specific and I really, really don't. I'm serious. What do you want?"

"You keep asking me that, I don't—" Jensen rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, flops backward, onto the bed, away from Jared. "I don't know what I want, okay? Or I don't know how to explain it. How can I explain to you that I hadn't even kissed anybody in years before you. And before that, I mean, college and Boston, it was all blow jobs and hand jobs and I never, I never really spent long enough with anyone to, um—I don't know how to say it without sounding idiotic, but—the point is, it doesn't matter how much porn I've watched, because I have no idea how to do this."

Jared takes a second to unpack all of that. He tucks himself back into his underwear, slides as close to Jensen as he thinks he'll let him get. "Porn is awesome and everything, but I don't think it has anything to do with us and what we're doing right now. Porn is fake. We're real. And we already established that we're not hooking up. We're…" Jared wants to say _in love_ but he doesn't know that for sure goes both ways. "…dating. We're in a relationship, Jensen. I thought we both knew that."

"I don't know how to do that, either."

"Give yourself a little credit, Jen. You planned this whole weekend. You found me burgers and beer within ten minutes of getting here. You text me and you go out of your way to help me and Dad and I can't get enough of kissing you, of touching you. We're already doing it. Everything else—sex, whatever—it's just icing."

"I like icing," Jensen says. "I want icing."

"Icing is good," Jared agrees. "But it can make you sick if that's all you eat."

Jensen smiles, then, and Jared feels something ease in his heart. "Look at you, with your metaphors. Are you a writer or something?"

"Or something."

Jensen's smile fades. "Okay, so we both want icing and even though I've never—Jesus, I'm almost thirty, I should be able to say the words." Jared doesn't say anything and Jensen finally huffs out, "I've never fucked anyone. Or been fucked."

The fact that Jensen's never done that doesn't come as a complete shock to Jared, but he's still proud of Jensen for saying it out loud.

"But I want to," Jensen finishes, quietly. "With you."

***

Jensen's kind of a basket case right now. The high from his first orgasm at the hands of another person in years, and at the hands of Jared, someone he actually cares about, had worn off as soon as Jared starting bringing his intuition and brain into the proceedings. Jensen doesn't know how Jared just seems to get when Jensen's off or uncomfortable, but he knows by now that Jared's not going to let much slide.

"I want to," he says again, since Jared's apparently so hung up on what Jensen wants. "I want to tell you something first."

Jared's practically naked and gorgeous, so Jensen closes his eyes so he can concentrate on getting the words out. He knows Jared will wait; he's got to be the most patient man on the planet.

"My family is not like your dad. They didn't think being gay was in any way, shape, or form okay and so for a long time I didn't even realize—you know how you mentioned to me that I pitched my voice lower when I first met you?"

"Yeah, it's just something I noticed. You kind of make your voice gruff, like a grumpy old man, when you're talking to someone you don't know very well."

"Kids used to make fun of me. For sounding like a girl, even after my voice changed. I just started imitating the voices of some of the boys in my class. I didn't want to give anyone a reason to think—"

"It's okay, you don't have to explain," Jared says. "But it's okay to talk like yourself. I like your voice."

Jensen takes a moment to appreciate that tiny, insignificant, yet amazing thing. "I'm just saying, I was different, and I didn't understand why for a really long time, and by the time I did and I got out, they'd already gotten in my head. To them, being gay meant being alone. It meant never having love, or relationships, or a family. And I didn't care if I never had any of that, as long as I could be myself. So I left Texas. I went to school. And I didn't know who I was there, either. It seemed like being gay in college was about sex, not relationships. I guess I started to believe it wasn't something I could hope for. To have both."

Jensen makes himself look at Jared again, watching his sweetly angular face. "Until you came and you made me wonder…"

Jared's got a lot of smiles, but this one might be Jensen's favorite. This smile says that Jensen's right. That everything he ever hoped for and tried not to, could come true. Was true, right now in this hotel room with a boy so beautiful and smart and sweet that Jensen couldn't have dreamed him up if he tried.

"Made you wonder?" Jared prompts.

"If I was wrong. If I could be myself and have love and sex and romance and icing and it would be a day dream that I could actually live in."

"It's not a dream," Jared says. "I'm the luckiest fucking guy in the world."

Jensen can't help his own smile, spreading across his face, the heat from Jared's words spreading through his blood.

"Thanks for telling me, Jen. I get why you clam up about Texas, and I get it how lucky I am to have had it different. But you're not alone anymore, okay? I'm going to make sure of that."

Jensen wants to ask how he can promise anything, but he doesn't want to break the mood. He surges up, kissing Jared hard. They're here, together, and Jensen thinks he's ready to ask for what he wants.

"Jared, can we have the icing now?"

"You want the icing?" Jared's smile turns somehow dirty.

"I want it," Jensen says.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally sex!

"Whatever you want, and nothing you don't. You have to promise me about that," Jared says, settling hot and long and lean next to Jensen's side, looking up at him with those eyes that turn Jensen into a puddle every time. "Okay, Jensen?"

"Okay, yeah, I promise."

Jared keeps looking at him, searching his face for something, until finally, he nods. "But since I've got some ideas, too, we're just going to have to be really fucking explicit about every step along the way."

That sounds both dirty and responsible. Jensen kind of likes the combination. "Explicit. Right."

"Can I take off your glasses?" Jared asks.

Jensen wasn't expecting that. He puts a hand to the frames. "Why?"

"Don't get me wrong—you really rock the whole sexy librarian look, Jensen, believe me—but it might be good to have them out of the way, unless you really need—"

"No, it's okay." Jensen slides them off himself and sets them on the nightstand. He blinks a couple of times. He's farsighted with a touch of astigmatism, so Jared up close is a little blurry, but he can do without them. "Better?"

"You've got the most incredible eyes I've ever seen, without or without glasses, so. But yeah, I won't be so worried about damaging them," Jared says, a little cryptically. What could he be planning that might damage Jensen's glasses?

"Now," Jared says, rather briskly for someone who's about to have sex, "we need lube, condoms, maybe some water." He jumps off the bed, starts rummaging in his bag. "And music! I'll just plug in my phone." 

Jensen watches Jared move around the room in nothing but his underwear, gathering supplies, muttering to himself a little as he tries to decide on a playlist. Jensen feels a smile growing on his face. Jared's trying to make him so comfortable. He's trying to make this perfect.

"Jared."

Jared doesn't answer, and some mellow guitars start streaming from his phone. He switches on a lamp, turns off another, sweeps the curtains closed.

"You need to use the bathroom?" Jared asks. "We could take showers, if you want to."

"Jared. Come here."

Jared hesitates, then climbs back onto the bed. He looks young and a little nervous. Jensen puts a hand on his cheek, and Jared leans into it. "I appreciate everything you're doing. But I'm not—I don't need—"

"I need this to be good for you," Jared says.

"You're going to be there, too, right?" Jensen says with a hint of a smile.

Jared nods.

"Then it's going to be good for me."

Jared holds his gaze for another moment, then breaks, kissing Jensen hard and fast and perfect. After that, things are familiar as they kiss, and touch each other, less inhibited than ever. Jensen feels himself getting hard again when Jared pulls back a little. "I'm going to take this off, okay?" He's tugging at Jensen's briefs and Jensen nods. In a flash, they're gone, and Jared asks, "Can I take mine off?"

Jensen feels his impatience rising. "Are you seriously going to ask permission for every single thing?"

"It's called consent, Jensen," Jared says.

"I know what it's called, but—"

"It's important."

Jensen softens again. Jesus. Jared is really something else. "Then how about I just give you a blanket yes right now?"

"That's not really how it works."

"Look, Jared," Jensen pauses to slide his thumbs under the waistband of Jared's boxer briefs and tug. He talks as he peels them down, revealing Jared's large, mouthwatering cock. "I want you. I want to be naked with you. I want to have sex with you. I want your hands on me. I want your cock inside me. I'm giving you my _explicit_ consent. Okay?" 

The boxers are gone and now it's just the two of them, naked, hard, straining toward each other with only Jared's overdeveloped sense of propriety in the way. Jensen makes a ring with his fingers and slides it over Jared's cock, pumping the shaft, reveling in the feeling of his hot, velvety soft skin, aching hardness underneath. He twists up at the head, cups Jared's balls. He may be rusty at doing this to someone else, but all in all he's an expert at hand jobs, given the amount of practice he's had on himself. It's a little different accounting for Jared's heft and weight, but Jared gasps when Jensen squeezes and strokes firmly. "Okay, Jared?"

He stills until Jared chokes out, "Please, yes, okay."

Jensen starts stroking again. "I want everything. I'm asking you for everything."

"Everything, Jen," Jared echoes. His cheeks are stained red and his hair hangs in his eyes. Jensen sweeps it back from his forehead, a tender gesture that mirrors the way his heart feels, a little bruised at how Jared makes him feel, sensitive, open, wanting everything and more.

"And you mean it, you want to bottom?" Jared asks. "Because if you want to top, I love doing both, and for the first time maybe it would be better for you to top, but, Jesus, there's nothing like bottoming, seriously—" 

Jensen stops the flow of words by biting Jared lightly where his neck and shoulder meet, then licking his way from that spot to Jared's jaw. "I want to bottom, you lunatic. I want you to fuck me, Jared. Do I need to prep myself in order for you to believe me?"

Jared groans and his voice comes out a desperate growl. "Oh my god, I'm going to make you feel so good, I promise."

"I know you will."

It's mostly a blur of mouths and hands and the gratifying slide of skin on skin after that. There's lube and a slight debate about positions, and in the end, Jared's flat on his back, pointing his condom-wrapped, slicked-up cock up toward Jensen, while Jensen's on his knees, straddling him, working himself open with two fingers.

Jensen takes a moment to appreciate the view, Jared laid out underneath him, his hair still damp from their dash through the rain, and now with a little sweat. His eyes are dark, his cheeks flushed, his mouth open. Every muscle in his body seems taut with held-back motion. The sight of soft black hair on his belly, under his arms, the flat brown nipples on his chest—Jared's just so _male_ , and the thought makes Jensen's cock pulse between his legs. 

The man who's about to fuck him is sweet and thoughtful, but he's also fucking hot. Jensen's never been so turned on in his life.

"I'm ready."

Jared looks like he's about to say something like "are you sure" or "we don't have to do this if you don't want to" and Jensen really can't wait any longer. He gently pulls his fingers out, folds himself over to kiss Jared, open mouthed and deep, and reaches back, guiding the tip of Jared's insanely perfect cock between the cheeks of his ass until it bumps bluntly against his rim. Just because Jensen's never done this with anyone doesn't mean he's never had anything inside him before. But this is admittedly different, and he's happy to take it slow, kissing Jared one more time before his sits up and back, sliding down an inch at a time until he's full.

"Okay?" The irony that it's Jensen asking Jared and not the other way around isn't lost on him.

Jared's breathing hard and moans his response, gripping Jensen's hips tight. "You feel amazing."

Jensen's not quite at amazing yet, still getting used to the sensation, but then Jared does something with his hips, lifting up while pressing Jensen down with his hands and Jensen lets out a gasp.

"Shit—"

"No, do that again."

Jared smiles then, and together they find a rhythm, Jensen's cock thickening in response every time the pressure on his prostate increases, every time he zeroes in on the feeling of being stretched by Jared. It's an incredible feeling, being stretched open, filled up, guided by Jared's strong hands, the burn on his thighs, the slap of skin on skin, the smell of sex and sweat and, above all, it being _Jared_. Jensen knows if he touches himself he going to lose it all over Jared and he doesn't want it to end, not quite yet.

Maybe Jared's a mind reader because he slows, running his hands over Jensen's hips, his thighs, but not touching Jensen's aching erection. "Want to try it another way?"

"Sure." Jensen's not really up for deep thinking right now. He lets Jared practically lift him up, separating them, feeling the strange sensation of his hole closing around nothing, and rolls onto his back as Jared sits up, kneeling between Jensen's spread open legs. Jared stares down at him, until Jensen shifts uneasily. "What?"

"It's just—you're so—" Jared kisses him instead of finishing his thought. "God, Jen, you have no idea."

"I think I have some." Jensen lifts his hips in invitation, and Jared laughs.

"Okay, yeah, just a second." Jared slicks his dick up with a fresh squirt of lube, lines back up. 

This time feels different now that he's the one setting the pace instead of Jensen. The angle's different, and he feels even bigger like this, if that's possible. Jensen trembles, readjusting, and then Jared's all he way in, and they can kiss like this, and it's so good. It's so good, to feel Jared's heat and weight on top of him, and inside him, his mouth on his and Jensen thinks he knows what he's been missing all these years, and it isn't sex. It's not being fucked. It's being made love to, by someone he's definitely, all the way, gone for. It's having his cake and eating it, too—being like this, joined with someone who's both a lover and a friend. It's so much, Jensen knows he's going to cry and he doesn't even try that hard to stop the tears. Jared doesn't comment on them, just kisses each of Jensen's cheeks, the corner of his eyes, his eyebrows, back down to his mouth. Jared tastes like Jensen's tears.

"Touch yourself, Jen," Jared whispers, never letting up the inexorable slide of his cock into Jensen.

Jensen does as he's told, and Jared moves faster and closes his eyes and suddenly Jensen's shouting and coming like the finale of a fireworks display, loud, explosive, breathtaking. Jared's just behind, groaning through his orgasm, kissing Jensen again before carefully pulling out, coming to a stop curled against Jensen's side. They breathe together for a few long seconds, aftershocks shooting through Jensen's body as his hole twitches and twinges.

Neither of them wants to say anything. Or maybe that's just Jensen, not wanting to say something stupid. Something like, "I'm in love with you." But eventually, Jared sighs and shifts, gets rid of the condom, lays back down, hands Jensen some tissues just like he did before. Jensen half-heartedly swipes at the drying come on his stomach. 

"Shower?" Jared asks.

"Shower."

An absurdly loud gurgle comes from the vicinity of Jared's stomach and Jensen can't help the giggle that escapes him. "And then dinner?"

Jared laughs, too. "I completely forgot about dinner."

Suddenly Jensen feels deliriously happy and doesn't bother to censor what comes out of his mouth. "You must really like me, to forget about a meal." 

Jared opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, then he shuts it. He leans forward and the kiss he presses to Jensen's lips is gossamer soft. "Yeah, Jen. I really like you." Then he grins. "Last one in the shower buys." They tumble off the bed, racing each other like little kids.


	8. Chapter 8

_Six weeks later_

July gives way to August in Cross Creek. Jared's glad the days are still long and warm; he wakes every morning itching to get out of bed for his run to Cross Creek Coffee for his chai latte and a few minutes with Jensen before Jensen has to open up the library. 

They spend most mornings huddled over their steaming drinks, oblivious to the world around them, talking in low tones occasionally punctuated by Jared's loud laugh or Jensen's softer giggle. It's the best way Jared can think of to start his day—except for possibly waking up with Jensen tucked into his side. But those morning-afters are very few and far between, as Jared can't stand leaving his dad longer than a few hours these days, and Jensen's not comfortable spending the night in the Jared's small bedroom just down the hall from Jim.

After Jensen leaves for work at the library, Jared runs home, tries to get in a few hours writing before making lunch for Dad and the inevitable afternoon of doctors appointments and errands and all of a sudden it's dinnertime and he misses Jensen so much it hurts. But Jensen comes over for dinner more often than not, sometimes helping Jared cook, sometimes bringing a lasagna or casserole he makes ahead of time.

"You cook?" Jared had said when he discovered that Jensen has a well-equipped kitchen in his little one bedroom rental off the main drag of town.

"I cook," Jensen had confirmed and it had been so hard for Jared not to respond with "I love you." Instead he had said, "You're too good to be true, you know that?" and the blush that had stolen across Jensen's cheeks had made Jared want to tell him "I love you" all over again.

He's gotten good at holding it in. At first, it was because he was worried about scaring Jensen. Their weekend in Portland had been so intense, so wonderful, he hadn't wanted to mess it up. Now, things are going so well that Jared's terrified of making a fatal error.

They've been seeing each other long enough that Jared knows this isn't an infatuation. This is the real deal, he's sure of it. His stomach gets a little swoopy when he thinks about the future—finding a bigger place where he and Jensen can live together, something with an office for Jared to write and plenty of room for all of the hundreds—thousands?—of books they've got between them. He honestly can't wait to fall asleep every night with Jensen reading in bed next to him and wake up every morning with Jensen in his arms. But he's willing to keep that particular dream to himself until he's sure Jensen wants the same thing.

His dad's had a rough morning, but he seems to be feeling better after lunch, and Jim wants Jared to make the writing group meeting at the library, so Jared makes sure Jim's settled in his chair, cell phone in reach, fishing show on the television.

"I'll be back for dinner, okay, Dad?"

"Sounds good, son." Jim smiles, pulls a blanket over his lap. "Say hello to Jensen for me."

"Sure, Dad. I'll see if he can come over for dinner. Love you."

When he arrives at the library, Sarah's behind the desk, and Jensen's nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Sarah, how are things?"

"Things are fantastic, thank you so much for asking!" Sarah chirps. She's sunny and outgoing where Jensen is reserved, and she's beloved by the kids and parents in town for her innovative children's programs. "Jensen's in the break room."

"Thanks." He smiles and throws her a wink. "I'll just go poke my head in and say hi."

"You do that," Sarah says, not bothering to hide her smirk. Jared gets the feeling that Sarah's so happy that Jensen's broken his long dry spell that she'd look the other way if Jared ravished Jensen in the stacks. Which Jared totally would, if he thought Jensen would go for it. Jensen's a little stuffy when it comes to fooling around in the library. Jared just thinks that's adorable.

Still, when he finds Jensen alone in the break room he doesn't mind sneaking a kiss and slipping a little tongue in for good measure. Jensen kisses him back before he remembers he's at work, and then pushes him away with a laugh. "What are you doing here?"

"Kissing my boyfriend," Jared says easily. "Because I have good news."

"What's that?" Jensen's blushing again, like he does whenever Jared refers to him as his boyfriend.

"I finished the draft of my book. I know it's shit, but at least it's done and after I take a break, I'm pretty sure I can revise it into something halfway readable."

"Oh my god, that's amazing, Jared." Jensen looks genuinely happy and maybe a little—proud? "And you don't get to decide if it's shit or not."

"You want that job?" Jared says, half joking.

"I'd be honored to read it, if that's what you mean."

"You would?" Jared leans forward and kisses him again. "I'd love that." _I love you._

The writing group is just as excited as Jensen to hear that Jared's finished his draft, and he heads home feeling tired but happy. Jensen's going to come by after work and they're going to order pizza and open a bottle of champagne and if Jim's doing okay, maybe they can steal a few minutes on the back patio and make out.

Jim's still in his chair when Jared comes in to check on him. The television's on, and Jared goes to turn down the volume when he realizes that Jim's not asleep. His father looks peaceful. Jared's first thought is that his dad's not suffering anymore, and that's good thing. His next thought is that he's going to miss him so much. His third thought is Jensen. He pulls his phone out and calls the library. Jensen picks up on the second ring.

"Jensen, it's me. Could you leave early and come over? Dad—Dad died."

***

Jensen takes the rest of that day and the next off of work and stays with Jared. He holds his hand as Jared calls his sister and brother in Texas to break the news. He's there when the funeral home comes to collect Jim's body for cremation. He puts food in front of Jared and gets Maddie to bring him a chai latte and helps him make lists of all the endless things that need to be done to wrap up the affairs of Jim Padalecki. Jensen sleeps with Jared in Jared's too small bed and holds him when he cries himself to sleep.

Jensen pushes aside his own grief for the kind man who'd become a friend and focuses on whatever Jared needs. All the while his heart is slowly breaking. Jim will be cremated and Jared will bring the ashes to Texas for the family funeral. Jared will go to Texas and Jensen's pretty sure he won't be coming back. Now that Jim's gone, there's nothing to keep Jared in Cross Creek.

"I want to donate his books to the library," Jared says toward the end of the second day. "You can use them for the book sale, even if you don't need them for the library's collection. Will you help me sort them?"

"Of course," Jensen says.

"And we should get our plane tickets. How long do you think Sarah can handle the library on her own?"

Jensen shakes his head. "Plane tickets?"

"I was thinking we could fly down Thursday, give us a full day before the funeral on Saturday. But it would be shame if we had to fly back right away on Sunday. Do you think she'd mind if you took another couple of days?"

Jared looks up at Jensen from his laptop. His eyes are rimmed red and his hair is a mess. Jensen loves him so much he almost can't remember what it feels like not to be in love with Jared Padalecki.

"You want me to come with you?" he says, a little hoarsely.

Jared frowns. "Of course I do. Do you not—I mean, you knew him, too. I thought—"

"Yeah," Jensen interrupts, unable to be the cause of any more of Jared's confusion or pain. "Yes. I knew him. He was—well, you don't need me to tell you how great he was."

Jared smiles at that, sadly, but a real smile nonetheless. "I don't. But it's nice to hear you say it, anyway."

"He was the best. He always wanted first dibs on anything new by John Le Carré. Did you know he turned me on to Ross MacDonald? I'd never read him before your dad mentioned him to me."

"Really?" Jared's smile dims again. "He really cared about you, you know."

Jensen doesn't know what to say. "Well, he was a good man. A good dad."

Jared's eyes fill at that, but they don't spill over. "It's so weird to suddenly be an orphan. I know I'm twenty five, but right now I feel like a little kid who wants his mom and dad. At least he's not missing my mom anymore." Jared blows out a hot breath. "They were really in love."

 _I'm really in love with you_. Jensen doesn't say it. He's had to bite back the words a dozen times a day since Portland. If Jared's going to leave him, maybe his broken heart will hurt less if Jensen keeps the words to himself.

Jensen hasn't been to Texas in seven years. He hasn't even flown on an airplane since the last time he made the trip home for the holidays and returned to Boston his last year of grad school. He's not afraid to fly, he's not even really afraid to set foot in a place that holds a complicated mix of memories. He's mostly afraid that when it comes time to turn around and go home, Jared will realize that Austin's his home, and Jensen will have to fly back to Maine alone.

Jared's still mourning, but he regains some of his usual buoyancy in the days leading up to their flight. They leave early in the morning, make the drive to Portland and take a tiny airplane to Boston, then a much larger one for the longer leg to Austin. Jensen's not a small guy, but it's slightly comical watching Jared fold himself into his seat in coach. He ends up falling asleep halfway there, arms and legs akimbo, jutting into Jensen's space and the aisle. Jensen pretends to read _My Sister the Serial Killer_ but instead watches Jared, memorizing the slope of his nose and the jut of his jaw. Just in case.

Jared's brother picks them up at the airport, greets them both with a bear hug that seems to be a Padalecki family specialty. Jared and his brother talk nonstop on the way to their sister's place, which is serving as the unofficial family hub for the weekend. Jensen doesn't have to talk much, and he's happy to stay quiet and soak up these last few days with Jared.

Once they get to Jared's sister's the next day is a blur of meeting endless family members, trying to keep the raft of cousins straight, and trying not to feel like there's a spotlight on him every time Jared introduces him to someone as "my boyfriend, Jensen." Apparently Jared really wasn't kidding about his family's acceptance of him. No one so much as bats an eye, or makes an off-color joke. They seem genuinely happy to meet him, and Jared's siblings especially make a point to talk with him and get to know him. Jared, it seems, has already told them plenty about Jensen. It's all so deceptively nice that Jensen forgets to worry about what comes after the funeral. The service is lovely and full of laughter and warm, heartfelt stories about how Jim touched the lives of his family members, friends, and students. Jared sniffles and Jensen keeps him in Kleenex and doesn't let go of his hand the entire time.

Sunday most of the family heads their separate ways, and Jared takes Jensen on a tour of the neighborhood he grew up in on the outskirts of the city, not much different from Jensen's own suburban childhood. They end up closer to the city center for lunch, at a place where Jared seems to know everyone from the hostess to the bartender, and they all greet him like a long-lost brother.

"So this is the place where everybody knows your name?" Jensen jokes awkwardly, trying not to feel that Jared's being pulled back in already.

"I was definitely considered a regular," Jared admits. "They have the best burger in Austin."

"That explains it, then," Jensen says, forcing a smile.

They settle into a booth across from each other. Jared sinks into the leather with a sigh. "Jesus, I'm exhausted." He looks tired, but beautiful. Jensen wants to lean forward and brush the hair off his forehead, kiss his nose, tell him everything is going to be okay, but he's frozen on his side of the booth. 

"It was an intense weekend," Jensen says instead. "You did great. Your dad would have been proud."

"God, I couldn't have done it without you. Seriously, Jensen, thank you so much."

Jensen's stomach flips flops. He's not sure he's going to be able to eat the burger he ordered. Is this the let down before the big announcement? "I didn't really do anything," he says, looking down at the table.

"Just having you with me really meant everything." Jared's voice is warm. Jensen shivers. "Jen—I want to tell you something. I didn't know how to tell you before, well, I knew _how_ to tell you, I just didn't know _when_ to tell you, but I have to say it, so please, just hear me out."

Oh god, Jensen's going to be sick. He puts a hand over his mouth, can't bring himself to bring his gaze up from the table top to Jared's face. Can't look at him while he ends things.

"Hey, Jen," Jared leans over the table between them. Jensen still can't look up. "I know it wasn't easy for you to come here, and meet every single person I've basically ever known. The fact that you did it made me think maybe we're ready—maybe I'm ready to tell you—"

"No. Um. Don't." Jensen forces the words out. Maybe if he's talking he won't start crying. "I get it. There's nothing keeping you in Cross Creek anymore. Austin—this is where you belong. It makes total sense. You don't have to explain."

"What?"

Jensen sneaks a glance up at Jared; his face is the picture of befuddlement. "Austin—you're moving back here, right?"

"Fuck no. What are you talking about? I can do my job anywhere, but yours is in Cross Creek. Unless you were thinking about a change? Any library would be stoked to have you, but I thought you really liked it there."

"My job? Yeah. I love it. But—" Now Jensen's the one who's confused.

"So why would we move back to Austin?"

"We?"

The word feels suspended between them. Jensen can see it hanging in the air, waiting for someone to put it out of its misery. Or maybe that's just him.

A server comes and deposits their meals and then backs away when he gets no response to his cheerful banter.

When Jared finally speaks, he sounds a little more sure of himself, if slightly pissed off. "Yeah, 'we,' Jen. You and me. Why would I move thousands of miles away from the man I'm in love with?"

***

Jared's sure this is one of the more confusing conversations he's had in his life, but as Jensen just stares at him unblinking, his green eyes round, his hand covering his mouth like he's going to puke, things become a little clearer.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Jensen. I love you." He swallows, his mouth dry. "I should have told you before, but I do. And I'm not going anywhere. How can you say there's nothing to keep me in Cross Creek? That's where you are."

All of a sudden, it's like Jensen just…breaks. He hunches over on himself and hides his face in his hands. A spike of adrenaline hits Jared in the solar plexus, knocks the wind out of him. Oh god. Jensen doesn't feel the same way. Jared's messed this up and he can't…he can't….

"Jen? Talk to me. Are you okay? I'm sorry, okay? I can fix it." He wants to go around and pull Jensen into his arms, but he knows how Jen is with PDA, and it physically hurts to have to stay put on his side of this stupid booth. Why did he decide now was a good idea to tell Jensen, in public, over _burgers_. Jared's an idiot and Jensen…Jensen's coming over to his side of the booth.

Dazed, Jared feels his mouth drop open as Jensen slides in next to him, wraps his arms around Jared's middle and holds on tight. His face is still crumpled, his breath coming fast. He mumbles something into Jared's shoulder. It sounds like, "I love you, too."

Jared looks down at his boyfriend, at the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. "You do?"

Jensen squeezes and nods and takes a few deep breaths. He's not crying, but his face is red and his glasses askew. Jared feels dangerously close to tears himself, but he worries if he starts, then Jensen will start, and they won't be able to stop. Maybe later.

"God, Jen, I've wanted to tell you every day. I thought—I didn't want to rush. But you have to know how very much I love you. Please tell me you know?"

Jensen takes one more deep breath, fixes his glasses, pulls away slightly, so Jared can see his face, but doesn't take his arms off Jared. Jared's not about to complain. "I know. I was scared. I talked myself out of it. I told myself you wouldn't want to stay in Cross Creek when your whole life before this was here. But maybe I was just scared you didn't feel as much for me as I feel for you."

"I like Cross Creek," Jared says. "Yeah, I miss my friends, my brother and sister. But I can visit. They can visit us, too. Jen, this is it for me. You are it for me. If you want that."

Jensen doesn't answer right away. He sits all the way up, arms falling from Jared's body, but he slides his hand into Jared's. He smiles and Jared feels his chest lighten as if someone's pumped helium directly into his chest cavity.

"I think I fell in love with you a little that first day, when you said hey to me at the coffee shop. Remember?"

"I'll never forget," Jared says.

"I’d never seen you before, but you seemed familiar. Like I’d just been sitting there, waiting for you."

"You don't know how lucky I feel that it was me you were waiting for."

"Of course, at first I didn't really know what to do with you. But I realized that even from that first day you really saw me. Maybe you're the first person who ever really has. Or maybe the first person I’ve let see me."

"I see you, Jensen. God, you're practically the only thing I see, sometimes." He wants to kiss Jensen so badly it hurts.

"I don't remember what it's like not to be in love with you."

"Good. You're never going to be reminded."

"Promise?" Jensen says, eyelashes wet, mouth pink.

"I promise," Jared says. Then Jensen leans over and kisses him, taking his breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this. This was a lovely, soft story to write. Thank you for reading it.  
> On Tumblr [ @fictionallemons ](https://fictionallemons.tumblr.com/)


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